


#78

by hhopp



Series: Hhopp's Destiel Angst-a-Thon [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying Dean Winchester, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhopp/pseuds/hhopp
Summary: “I’m crying on the floor and nothing’s right, but I know you can make this better.”





	#78

He was investigating a lead just south of Orlando when he felt a twinge on his grace, the beginning of a prayer. Sighing, he waited for the request to come in— he smiled when he realized it was Dean. _Cas, hey_ , he began, _I don’t know where you are, man, but I really need you_. 

 

He wondered what was wrong. 

 

_Sammy, he’s— he’s hurt real bad. I don’t think he’s coming back from this one. And he made me promise_ — here there was some sort of hiccup, and the connection fizzled out for a moment before coming back stronger than before. _Made me promise not to make any deals, or sacrificial spells or whatever. Not this time. He’s, uh… he’s kind of in and out. The doctors aren’t really sure what to make of it, but we’re pretty sure this time it’s the end. We’re back up in Sioux Falls, if you wanna fly out here, wherever you are._ _It’s just… I’m in a motel, it’s the uh— Blue… Blue Garden or something, the nurses kicked me out for the night, and I don’t know what to do, Cas. It’s… Dad’s gone, Ellen and Jo, Bobby… even Sam’s on his way out. Cas, I’m all alone. I’m all alone, and I’m crying on the floor of some stupid motel room and nothing’s right right now, I’m praying to a freakin’ angel of the lord because my baby brother got torn up in a fight against the supernatural evils against the world, it’s just… I dunno, man, I don’t know what to do right now except call you, because I’m pretty sure you’d be able to fix this, or help, or… whatever. Room number six, if you’re interested._

 

If Dean continued praying after that, he didn’t hear it in the vacuum as he flew to the peeling door. He let his fist pound against the wood a few times. 

 

“Dean?” No response. “Dean, I’m opening the door.” The sight which greeted him was… pitiful. Dean Winchester: former righteous man, one true vessel of Michael, and love of his life, was curled up in the middle of the floor, his face red, puffy, and streaked with tears, a cut carved across his right cheek, a brown bottle held limply in his hand. His clothes were rumpled, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. A nurturing instinct Cas didn’t know he possessed kicked in as he crossed the room to kneel beside him. 

 

“Heya, Cas.” 

 

The angel sighed. “Hello, Dean.” He pressed two fingers against his forehead, taking away his physical pain and most of the haze of drunkenness he seemed to have put upon himself. “How are you?”

 

“Not drunk anymore, thanks a lot.” Dean rolled his eyes, but clapped him on the shoulder. “Wishing I could fix this. Wishing everything were different.” He groaned and pulled himself to his feet. His voiced turned sincere, “Thanks for coming, man. You didn’t have to.”

 

“Of course I did. You and Sam are very important.” One side of Dean’s face twitched in something that might generously be called a smile; he counts it as a win. “You should get some rest. We can go to the hospital to see him in the morning and decide what to do from there.”

 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Kudos, Comments, you know the drill if you've ever read an author's note before.


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